


It's The Always, The Forevers

by ghettoassenglishman



Series: Take my hand--Take My Whole life too [52]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Confessions, Fluff, Future Fic, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Smoking, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 21:13:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4034800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoassenglishman/pseuds/ghettoassenglishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the middle of the night and Ian finds Mickey on the porch smoking. </p><p>- Anon Asked: a fluffy love filled prompt with Ian saying somewhere in there "Mickey I really fucking love you"</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's The Always, The Forevers

**Author's Note:**

> I really loved this prompt! I Hope you like it? Tell me what you think:)

Ian wakes up to a cold breeze against his chest, something that wasn't usual when the two of them were basically heaters in bed. He pats the vacant spot beside him, grunting in annoyance when he realised that Mickey wasn't laid next to him. Prying to his eyes open, he visually confirms his findings, just a scrunched up sheet left from Mickey. It's almost three he knows that for sure, the darkness was spread eagle over the room like a blanket. When he looks over to the night-stand he notices that the packet of smokes and lighter are no longer there, and it instantly clicks into his head what where Mickey was at that awful time.

“What are you doing out here?” Ian calls from the slightly open front door, leaning against the frame in just his sweats and hair all muzzled,

Mickey jolts around, smoke dangling from his lips, boots on against his pale, exposed legs, eyes tired and bare chest glimmering under the moon-light that was fairly rare for Southside. When he realises that it's just Ian, he shrugs nonchalantly, turning around to look over the steps he was sat up on. “Couldn't sleep.”

“You should of woken me up.” Ian whines, shuffling out into the open air, feet tingling against the cold floor. God, he should of brought shoes. He rubs his hands against his arms before stepping down a couple of steps.

Mickey exhales through his nose, before lazily waving his hand. “Man, you're up now.”

Rolling his eyes, Ian sits himself on the step above Mickey, pulling his legs around the older mans sides, as if they were a wall around his body. His feet plant against Mickey's side against the step, one hand reaching out to comb through Mickey's hair. Chuckling, he breaks, “You were so dirty.”

When Ian goes to take the cigarette, Mickey jolts to the side, “Fuck off, get your own.”

“I have none left.” Ian pouts, whining.

“fucking _Fine,”_ Mickey sighs heavily, taking a long drag from the smoke before passing it back. If it stopped Ian from rabbiting his ear off all night, he was down for that. Pulling a face, he darts his head around scowling. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Ian already knows he's referring to the dirty comment. Laughing at the delayed remark, he puffs out the smoke, “Back then. Back when we just banged in the back of the store. You had this like layer of dirt on your skin.”

Mickey throws his elbow back, hitting Ian in the chest, before sliding his hand under the leg of Ian's sweats, pinching at the skin. Ian giggles, like always. Fucker. Mickey grabs the smoke back, flipping him the bird. “Fuck off, not all of us had hot water and working fucking showers, y'know.”

Ian pulls Mickey back with a firm hand against his shoulder, shuffling his feet further around him against the step. Gently, he lifts Mickey's chin, causing him to look up to him. Mickey blows out some smoke to Ian. “Man, not _cool.”_ Ian coughs out, wafting away the smoke before he continued. “I think you didn't clean, back then I mean, because you thought people would stay clear of you, like a hiding mechanism.”

“Shut the hell up with your mechanism bullshit.” Mickey scoffs, shaking his head as he looked back out to the street. He didn't mind being this close to Ian, as much, it felt safer than being out there alone.

Ian grins, hand going back into Mickey's hair, relishing in the small moans released from the brunettes mouth. “It's true though, isn't it?”

“No. Shut up.” Mickey punches at Ian's calf, trying to hide his stupid smile.

While Mickey enjoyed the last half of his cigarette, Ian let the silence draw over, running his fingers tenderly through Mickey's hair, and inching closer each second against his seat on the steps. A car alarm jolts them out of their trances, Ian's the first one to speak. Always is. “You ever think about getting out of here?”

Mickey turns his head, narrowing his eyes at the incredulous question. “Course I av' who wouldn't living in this shit heap?” Because, seriously, this place wasn't the island of dreams. Not for them.

“Do you _want_ to get out of here?” Ian's hands stop in his head, he tilts his head around Mickey's shoulder, trying to catch his eyes or any sort of reaction. It almost felt hopeful.

“No.” Mickey knocks it off, bluntly, stubbing out his blunt cigarette. “I mean, it's not like I haven't thought about being some rich dick, or owning a watch the price of this whole fucking block. But this place, it's ours. It's a piece of trash just like the rest of us.”

Ian feels himself enchanted by the words, because they held some sense. Mickey just looked back out into the empty street, unaffected, and Ian couldn't help but feel the mixture of being crushed but lifted simultaneously. “Hm,” He replies, resting his head at the top of Mickey's shoulder.

Mickey can't help but laugh, turning his head a little – nose brushing against Ian's cheek – as he swatted the redheads face, playfully. “Why you thinking of fucking leaving?”

“No, I, uh,” Ian fumbles with his words, sighing against the fabric of Mickey's shirt. “Imagine if we lived different lives, I don't know -” He breathes in, looking to Mickey for answers but the brunette just clicked his tongue and knocked his head against Ian's. “What if we had parents that actually gave a shit?” Ian asks, chuckling a little when Mickey scoffs loudly.

“ _Fuck,”_ Mickey laughs, leaning back into Ian. “We'd be in a totally different place now.”

Ian starts laughing too, sighing as if drifted, “But I like this. Us.” He taps Mickey's side teasingly, smirk resting on his lips as Mickey squirmed away. “Our situation is fucked, yeah, but it's _our_ fucked up mess. We wouldn't be us if we didn't have it.”

Ian had tried to get out, he had ran away numerous times believing that things were better on the other side. But then, he realised that moments like this don't happen out there.

“Damn straight.” Mickey nods, agreeing. He sighs, resting his head against Ian's chest as he looked up to the clouded, dark side. “The only down side is that we never get to see the fucking sky with all that toxic shit up there,” Ian giggles, remembering the time where the stars could be seen. He didn't miss it that much.

Mickey slaps his knee, nudging him a little as he got up from his sitting position. “Lets go in you big sap.” He stands to the side of Ian, smacking his pockets to check he had anything. When Ian didn't move, he kicks at his bare boot, raising his eyebrows, grinning.

“Right.” Ian knocks himself out of his daydream, steadily pushing himself to his feet.

Mickey stalks up the steps and feels Ian watching him, he's a little worried but he knows Ian was just checking his ass out like every-time. Boxers only did a little to hide things. He turns, tilting his head to the door, “Stop drooling over my ass and do something about it.”

Ian chuckles lightly, before winking. “I will, don't worry about it.”

“Come on then, tough guy, before our balls freeze off on the fucking porch.” Mickey turns away from him, heading towards the open front door, before he feels a hand catch onto his wrist and pull him around. He's faced with a smooth-faced Gallagher, his eyes hinted with fear, his lips ready to say something but not there just yet.

Ian stares for a moment, heart beating. Moments like this couldn't just end without him saying something important. He had held it back for _too_ long. “Mickey,” He gasps in a stutter, struggling to find the right words.

The brunettes face turns into a frown, wrist still tightly clutched. “What-”

Then Ian pulls him in, hand gripped to the back of his head, the other tugging him forward against his wrist. Ian's lips land on his, a gasp leaving the air as they attached softly. Mickey tenses, but finally relaxes into it, mouth moving in line with Ian's. Mickey moans, relishing in the gentle, lingering touch of their lips, a slight hesitation on both parts – as if they are both taking time to memorize the feeling. Ian's hand cupped at his cheek, thumb stroking at the skin, and when they pulled apart, their lips brushed ever so slightly, Ian's mouth hovering over Mickey's, breath tickling at his skin.

Ian closes his eyes, swallowing harshly. They are so close, and finally he could feel the words at the tip of his tongue, he whispers into Mickey's mouth, “Mickey, I really fucking love you.”

Mickey stands there is shock, mouth slightly a gape as his heart-beat quickened, and he found it harder to breathe. He knew Ian felt like that, but he never thought it would feel like this to actually hear the words. He looks into Ian's eyes, not saying anything at all, and when Ian opens his – he could see the true fear, the innocence shining bright – as if they were meeting for the first time.

“I need you to know that.” Ian speaks more clearly now, leaning back a little. His hand falls from Mickey's face and drops to his chest, hand slightly fisting in his shirt.

Mickey could see that Ian was panicking, he could _feel_ it. So, he reaches down and pulls at Ian's wrists, holding them in his palms as if they could break at any second. “I know that now.”


End file.
